


(Not) A Competition

by beloved_key



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I'm mean okay sorry, Insecurity, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Lance (Voltron) Whump, Sickfic, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-23 11:43:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9656087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beloved_key/pseuds/beloved_key
Summary: Normally, Lance is pretty good at letting Shiro know he's not feeling his best. Better than the other paladins, anyway. But when Keith issues a challenge on the morning Lance wakes up with a bitch of a cold, before Lance can go to Shiro, well... It's not like Lance can just back down, right? Besides, he's not even that sick. He'll be fine. Definitely.Based on a prompt by whumpcity on Tumblr





	1. So Responsible

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this is my first fic posted on this site, even though I've been writing for awhile now privately. I just saw this prompt and couldn't help myself. I hope it's not too bad, I was having a bit of a night when I wrote this! Also it was like... Three in the morning.
> 
> https://whumpcity.tumblr.com/post/157052869236/okay-but-consider-lance-or-whichever-paladin-you
> 
> Enjoy!

Lance had grown up in a big family, with a mother who never missed anything. She always knew when Lance was well enough to attend school, visit friends, etc., and when he definitely should stay in bed. He didn’t count the incident in the third grade against her; he’d still been an only child then. It wasn’t long before Mrs. McClain’s experience as a mother increased beyond the point of being fooled by a stomachache.

Ever the quick learner, eventually Lance had started picking up on hints as to his wellbeing on his own, which made him… Shockingly more responsible than most of his teammates. At least where illness was concerned. Pidge often worked herself to exhaustion, too focused on her project(s) to even notice. Keith was the “grit his teeth and bear it” type to the point of insanity. Shiro was… Shiro. Even Hunk preferred to avoid worrying people, and besides, he had the constitution of an ox, it was rare he caught any sort of bug.

But Lance actually had a fair idea of when he should suck it up and work through it, and when he needed to take a step back. By now, he knew that, if he was feeling truly awful, all he had to do was go to Shiro privately, admit he was sick, and their fearless leader would send him straight off to bed, making the whole ordeal rather painless. The black paladin had even once admitted that he was hoping Lance would prove a good influence on his teammates, himself included (though if it was working, it hadn’t begun to show yet). Besides, Shiro was always so concerned it was almost cute. He’d palm Lance’s forehead, and his brow would furrow in a way that made Lance have to hold in a giggle. He just looked so… Downright paternal, it was enough to make Lance forget that the guy had, like, seven years on him. Eight? Definitely not more than ten.

At any rate, when Lance had woken up with a clogged nose, scratchy throat, and just general sense of unwellness, he immediately resolved to talk to Shiro. At least to clue him in on the fact that he wasn’t feeling quite at one hundred percent.

But then, when he’d walked into the kitchen, he’d run into Keith. And Keith had commented, with that annoying, not-quite-cocky smirk he reserved for bugging Lance, “Mission today. Hope you can keep up.”

And of course, hardly missing a beat, Lance had replied, “I’d be more worried about yourself, Keith. Good luck keeping up when all you can see is my sweet ass--”

“Guys.” Shiro’s warning cut off their banter before it could escalate into a genuine argument. Lance made half-mocking “I’m watching you” signs at Keith. Keith rolled his eyes and returned to his goop breakfast. Suddenly noticing that everyone else was eating, and Lance was even later for breakfast than usual, he jumped to grab his own bowl of mush, then sidled in next to Hunk.

Unfortunately, Keith’s challenge meant that Lance simply could not go to Shiro. If Lance admitted that he was coming down with something, then Shiro would sideline him, or worse; make him stay behind. Lance wouldn’t be able to look Keith in the face for a week. That was intolerable.

Plus, it wasn’t like Lance was that sick. Sure, his throat stung in protest when he forced down his goop-food. Maybe his voice was a little rough, and a teensy bit congested. Maybe he felt the slightest tingle of fever dancing under his skin. But it wasn’t so bad, yet. Hopefully it was just a twenty-four hour bug, and even if it wasn’t, Lance could always just clue Shiro in tomorrow. He’d be fine for today. Definitely.

Yeah...

\---

By the time they actually left on the mission, which wasn’t too difficult, just driving a nearby Galra occupying force away before it could really get dug in, Lance was still feeling confident. The force was small. They could probably handle it individually, and once Voltron got involved? No contest.

So when a few hours later the invaders were defeated, Lance was still feeling pretty confident. His lungs had become more clogged during the course of the fight, as had his sinuses. He was a bit shaky, and his fever had definitely gone up. He’d had to turn off his open com more times than he cared to admit to cough or sneeze. But it hardly mattered now, all they had to do was fly back to the castle, and then he could--

“Alright, everyone, good work!” Shiro announced over the coms. “How about we run a few drills, while we have Voltron out and warmed up, before heading back? We can take the opportunity to scan for stragglers while we’re at it.”

Lance barely held back a moan. He almost protested when he heard everyone else--chipper and high on adrenaline after an easy fight--voice their assent. Specifically, Lance heard Keith voice his assent.

Gritting his teeth, Lance chipped in with a “Yeah, let’s do this!” and settled in for bonus minute. Sensing his unease, Blue sent a flash of concern.

“I’m fine, bud.” Lance muttered, flicking off his open com to reassure his lion and muffle a rough cough into his arm. “Just a quick tour around the area, a couple of drills, and then I can sleep this bug off. Just help me out for a little longer, yeah?”

Blue conceded, reluctantly. With a coughed-out “good girl,” Lance refocused on the action, flicking his open com back on to rib Keith a bit.

\---

By the time Shiro called an end to the drills, Lance was severely regretting his resolve to stick this out.

Apparently, this was one of those “hit you like a bus” colds, because half-an-hour into their extra training, Lance was slammed with a wall of sick, complete with wheezy lungs, runny/itchy nose, trembling limbs, cold sweats, and foggy brain. He still managed to keep up, to his vague pride, and if he was a bit quieter than usual, a bit slower to respond, he could put it down to being worn out after the fight. No one questioned him on it, anyway, and Lance was grateful, because his voice had started going after an hour of bonus minute, and he wasn’t sure any reassurances he offered would be very convincing.

Just when Blue was threatening to take matters into her own hands (paws?), Shiro piped up; “Alright, team, excellent work out there! Break up, and head back to the castle. You’ve all earned a break this evening.”

Lance almost wanted to cry with relief, but kept it together, carefully guiding Blue out of formation as Voltron disassembled, and they all soared back to the castle. As soon as his lion touched down in the hangar, Lance slumped back in the pilot seat, coughing gratingly and swiping at his leaking nose. Ugh. Why.

Remembering that if he didn’t emerge from his lion, the others would probably get worried, he took as deep a breath as his rattling lungs would allow, schooled his face into something close enough to his usual, cocky, “I-Showed-You-Keith” expression, and stood up, walking a bit slower than normal to avoid wobbling too badly.

The others were chatting and making their way to their rooms, the kitchen, wherever, and Keith looked Lance up and down appraisingly. “You were quiet today.”

Forcing a smirk and hoping against hope his voice wasn’t too shot, Lance retorted, “Just concentrating.” Wincing slightly at his rasp, he cleared his throat. “Some of us don’t have time to make smart comments in the heat of battle, Keith.”

If Keith was going to comment on Lance’s voice, his last quip put him off the notion. Settling for an eyeroll, Keith shook his head and turned to walk off. Probably to go train some more. Or polish his knife. Or whatever emo space warriors did in their free time.

Okay, yeah, Lance’s fever was definitely getting worse if he spent that much time on a Keith tangent and “emo space warrior” was the best he could come up with. With attention off of him at last, Lance slumped downwards, and staggered off to his bedroom. Too exhausted to even bother stripping off his armor, he collapsed face-first onto his bed, and passed out almost immediately.

And almost immediately he was being jostled by the shoulder. Rude.

“Rude.” Lance grumbled, not bothering to open his eyes. To his annoyance, the jostling didn’t stop.

“Lance? Seriously, wake up. You, uh… J-Just wake up, would you?”

Lance frowned. That was Keith. And Keith was sounding kinda freaked out. Was something wrong?

Slowly, the blue paladin opened his eyes. Apparently, more time had passed than it felt like, because he’d rolled over onto his back, and the lighting was dimmer, indicating evening. Keith, back in civilian clothes and freshly showered, was standing over him looking extremely disconcerted. Lance squinted up at him.

“W’as wrong?” He croaked, wincing as his voice grated against his sore throat. Keith winced too, fidgeting and giving off a distinct “I am out of my element” aura.

“You, uh, h-have a fever.” He stammered. “And you’re still not out of your armor. You didn’t show up for dinner, the others sent me to make sure you were okay. Which you aren’t. Clearly.”

Moaning, Lance shifted himself into a sitting-up position with difficulty. “I’m fine, man. Just--” He broke off coughing, and emerged to find Keith looking freaked again. “Jus’ a cold. Tell Shiro I’m not feeling so hot?”

Keith looked torn. “Should… Should you be alone with a fever that high?”

He sounded genuinely confused, and Lance huffed a laugh, starting to strip off his armor. “I’ll live, man. Jus’ wanna make sure Shiro knows I probably won’t be showing up to training tomorrow.”

To his surprise, Keith jumped to help him when Lance fumbled with his armor straps, shaky hands refusing to cooperate. “Yeah, I’ll tell Shiro, just lemme help you with this first.”

Lance almost argued, but… Well, with his body being stubbornly shivery, removing his armor could take ages. And besides, Keith had that stubborn look on his face that told Lance he wasn’t about to be talked out of this easily. So Lance allowed it.

When his armor was finally stripped off, and Keith still wasn’t leaving, Lance raised an eyebrow. “I think I can change clothes on my own.”

To Lance’s indignance, Keith didn’t look so sure. “I’ll, uh… Go get Shiro.” He left the room with one last concerned look over his shoulder before the door slid shut behind him. Lance rolled his eyes when he heard the red paladin sprinting down the hall. It’s not like he was dying.

A rush of dizziness hit Lance when he tried to stand, prompting him to lower himself back onto the bed. Eyes closed, he breathed shakily until the headrush faded, then tried again, more slowly this time. Still dizzy, but not debilitatingly so. He managed to get out of his underarmor and into his pajamas by the time his door slid open again.

Shiro entered, with Keith hovering at his shoulder, and Hunk and Pidge peeking in around the doorframe. Lance sighed, flopping back down on the bed.

“You did tell them it’s just a cold, right?” Lance rasped out, sniffling thickly. “I’m not dying, for the last time.”

Keith remained stubbornly unconvinced, and Shiro was… Shiro. So he offered a sympathetic smile and knelt down next to Lance’s bed to assess the damage himself.

Shiro frowned upon feeling Lance’s forehead. “That’s a bit of a high fever for ‘just a cold,’ Lance. Did you just wake up feeling bad, or…?”

Lance was a bit embarrassed--looking back, his stubborn determination to stick it to Keith, who was hovering back behind Shiro looking highly distressed, seemed downright childish--but he was also not inclined to lie. So Lance sighed, glancing away.

“I felt kinda crappy this morning, but it wasn’t so bad, so I didn’t say anything.” He muttered. Shiro’s expression hardened.

“And after the mission? During training?”

Lance bit his lip. “Feeling… Worse. Didn’t wanna interrupt.”

“Didn’t wanna lose out to Keith, more like.” Pidge muttered. Apparently, having visual confirmation that Lance was not, in fact, on his deathbed, was highly reassuring to Pidge and Hunk, even if Keith was still on high alert.

Shiro shot Pidge a look, then turned back to Lance, sighing. “Next time, speak up when you’re not feeling well, alright? I wouldn’t have made you sit through a full training session after a battle if I’d known you were sick.”

Lance nodded. He knew that. He just… Ugh, he didn’t even know anymore. Maybe Shiro’s wish that Lance’s good self-care habits would rub off on the others had backfired, and Lance was now picking up the his teammates’ martyr-like tendencies. Wouldn’t that be just his luck?

“You probably shouldn’t be left alone with a fever like that.” Shiro muttered. “I’ll go ask Coran if he has anything to help. Could--”

“I’ll watch him.” Keith blurted out. Everyone, Lance included, turned to look at him. Keith glanced down, embarrassed but still determined. “Hunk and Pidge were in the middle of something before dinner. Allura’s working on calibrating the castle’s firing systems. I’ll keep an eye on him, ‘til Shiro comes back.”

“You don’t have to--” Lance tried to protest--because there was no way Keith actually wanted to stay with him--but was cut off by a sudden sneeze, which gave way to a fit of coughs. He was grateful when Shiro gently shifted him into a sitting position, supporting him until his spasming lungs calmed down.

When Lance emerged, Keith looked pale and disconcerted, but his eyes glinted with steely resolve.

“Look, man, it’s not a big deal, I can look after--” Hunk tried.

“I’ll do it, just… Finish your thing, then you can babysit him.” Keith bit back. Hunk raised his hands in surrender, exchanging a skeptical look with Pidge before the two left, muttering well-wishes and promising to stop by later. Lance was still wheezing with exertion, leaning heavily on Shiro’s shoulder.

“I’ll be right back, kiddo.” Shiro murmured, easing Lance back against his pillows and leaving to find Coran. Hesitantly, Keith took his vacated spot at the edge of Lance’s bed.

“It was really stupid of you to push through training.” He muttered, refusing to meet Lance’s eyes. “You could’ve gotten hurt.”

Lance let his eyes slide shut. God, he was tired. “S’not that big a deal, Keith, I’d have told Shiro if it got really bad.”

“You call this ‘not really bad?’” Keith snapped. Lance opened one eye, frowning.

“Dude, why do you even care?” He asked, irked. He was already suffering for his poor judgement, he really didn’t need to be called an idiot on top of all this.

Keith balked, stammered, then snapped his mouth shut, looking away again. Sighing, Lance shut his eyes again. After a moment, he felt a hand on his forehead, and they opened right back up.

“It’s not likely to have changed in the past, like, fifteen minutes, Keith.”

Scowling, Keith pulled his hand back. “We should keep an eye on it, a fever that high can be dangerous.”

“Yeah, which is why Shiro’s off getting meds.” Lance muttered, curling into his comforter and pouting a little despite himself when he had to reach up a fist to scrub at his nose. “You really didn’t have to sign up for babysitting duty. Hunk would’ve done it, he’s dealt with sick-me enough times back at the garrison.”

Keith didn’t grace Lance’s statement with an immediate response, just blushing and looking away. After a moment he grumbled, “But it’s not Hunk’s fault.”

Lance glanced up, frowning. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Keith huffed. “Do I really have to spell it out for you?”

“Uh, yeah. Fever brain. Not at my best right now.”

The red paladin crossed his arms, still not making eye contact. “It’s my fault you pushed yourself too hard. I saw you looked more tired than usual this morning, but instead of leaving you alone, I was an asshole. You probably would’ve been honest with Shiro if I hadn’t thrown down the gauntlet.”

Lance blinked. “Um… Dude.”

“What?”

“Are you actually blaming yourself for me being a competitive idiot?”

Keith’s scowl deepened. “No, you being a competitive idiot is entirely on you. But I should know you’re a competitive idiot, and I should know better than to push your buttons when you’re not at your best. Hell, I should know the difference between being sleepy and being sick! If I can’t even get that right, how am I supposed to le--”

He cut off suddenly. Even fevered and exhausted, Lance didn’t need to ask why.

It was no secret that Shiro planned on Keith taking over if anything happened to him. Lance, to his own surprise, didn’t really have a problem with that. Sure, he had his rivalry with Keith, but at the same time he couldn’t deny that the red paladin was the obvious choice, flaws and all. Besides, none of them really liked to spend too much time thinking about it. Because if Keith was in charge, that meant that Shiro was…

Well. Again, none of them really liked to think about it.

“If it comes to that, I’ll help you.”

Keith whipped around, finally looking at him. “What?”

Lance shifted until he was half-upright. “If anything happens to Shiro, I’ll help you with the PR stuff, alright? I’m good at that. And you don’t have to worry about us butting heads too much if you’re in charge. I may be a pain in the ass sometimes, but even I know when to lay off. And if you’re…” Lance trailed off for a moment, lost in worst case scenarios. He returned to reality with a wince when his head gave a particularly painful throb. “Well, I’ll have your back, at any rate, let’s leave it at that.”

Keith seemed to have gotten himself stuck in a feedback loop at that profession, so Lance just resettled back under his covers, muffling a string of coughs into the blankets. All that heart-to-heart had set his already testy lungs even more on edge.

“Thanks.”

Lance glanced back at Keith, who was regarding him with a vulnerable expression. Lance offered a small smile in return. “No proble--”

His lungs revolted again, violently, and Lance was startled by a stab of pain through his chest as he spluttered into another fit of coughs. Folding in on himself instinctively, his head spun with dizziness as his lungs continued to convulse. Distantly, Lance registered Keith pulling him back against his chest, asking what was wrong frantic voice. Lance would’ve commented that what was wrong should’ve been obvious, but as it was he couldn’t even get enough air to stay awake. Just when he was certain he was going to pass out, the door hissed open again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You thought it was Lance insecurity, but no, twas I, Keith insecurity!
> 
> ....Sorry I've been reading a lot of Lance whump lately I wanted to give him a break >.


	2. Symptomatic (Ugh)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> UGhhhhhhh I'm so sorry this was on hold for so long. I just got horrific writers block on this one, and decided to end it here with one last chapter. Sorry, I was planning so much more for this but... I just lost inspiration. Thanks so much to everyone who commented/read! You guys rock <3

“He-he just started coughing, a-and he can’t stop--” Keith stammered, sounding panicked.

Suddenly, Keith was gone, and someone else took his place. “Easy, Lance. I’m here. Can you hear me?”

Shiro. Still hacking roughly, Lance managed to nod.

“That’s it. Follow my lead, okay?” Shiro’s voice was blessedly calm, and Lance could feel him breathing deeply and evenly, chest rising and falling under the blue paladin’s back. “Try to slow down. Easy now. Easy.”

Lance’s eyes were streaming from the pain in his chest, he was dizzy from lack of breath, but he tried to follow Shiro’s instructions, breathing through the convulsive coughs, relieved when they finally faded. Vaguely aware of Shiro running a hand through his hair, Lance breathed shallowly, trying to stave off the fogginess at the edge of his vision. He did not want to pass out. That was the last thing he needed right now.

After awhile, Lance registered Shiro and Keith having a conversation.

“...could be bronchitis. Definitely a chest infection.” Shiro was murmuring worriedly. “But I don’t think this is just a cold. Dammit, I never should’ve run those extra drills--”

Sad Shiro was not a good Shiro. Lance rasped, “M’okay… Jus’ a cough, I’m good.”

“Shut up, you’re not.” Keith snapped. Squinting his eyes open, Lance caught sight of his shaken expression. “It’s not your fault, Shiro. Maybe… M-Maybe his body’s having a harder time fighting this off, ‘cause it’s not an Earth disease. Can’t we just shove him in a cryopod, where he can’t cough himself to death?”

Shiro shook his head with a sigh. “Already checked with Coran. Apparently they’ve had… Mixed results, in the past, using the cryopods to treat illness. They don’t want to risk it, not when there’s no one but us who can pilot the lions if an extended recovery period is needed.”

Keith cursed, though Lance was secretly relieved. His fever had apparently decided it was time to feel cold, sometime while he was distracted by his rebellious lungs, and he started shivering slightly. A cryopod sounded downright torturous right now.

Spotting Lance’s shaking, Keith cast about the room for a moment, expression souring. Finally accepting that Lance had no extra blankets, he rolled his eyes and pulled off his jacket, laying it across Lance’s chest and tucking it in around his shoulders.

“Aw, Keith, I didn’t know you cared.” Lance wheezed, trying for a smirk, though the effect was probably ruined by his exhausted face and runny nose. Keith didn’t bother responding, instead turning back to Shiro.

“What should we do, then? He can’t be left alone if he’s like this.” Keith demanded.

“We’ll start by giving him the fever reducer Coran found.” Shiro answered, sounding less guilty and more task-oriented, to Lance’s relief. “Keith, could you go get some water? Grab Pidge and Hunk while you’re at it. We’ll keep an eye on him in shifts.”

Keith nodded, then dashed out of the room without further comment. The moment the door slid shut, Shiro turned his attention on Lance in full.

“How bad is it? Honestly?”

Lance winced. “Uh… Bad. My chest hurts when I breathe too deep, and I’m dizzy, and, uh… Some other stuff. Cold/flu-ish stuff. Sorry I didn’t tell you earlier.”

“I’ll forgive you,” Lance couldn’t see his face from this angle, but he got the impression that Shiro was smiling slightly. “If you can forgive me for not noticing you were sick, that is.”

“Done. Obviously.”

Another shiver wracked Lance’s body, and Shiro held him a little tighter. “Is there anything you need, other than water and meds?”

Lance frowned. “I dunno, some blankets? And I mean, my mom’s chili and chicken soup sounds pretty great right about now, but I doubt that’s an option.”

“Sorry, kiddo. No chili or chicken in space.” Shiro managed to be apologetic and lighten the mood in the same sentence. Lance was proud. “Maybe we can see what Hunk can do about some spicy soup, though, we should still have plenty of ingredients from that last resupply. And that’s a definite yes on the blankets.”

It wasn’t his mom’s brand of comfort, but Shiro was trying, and Lance appreciated that. “Thanks. That sounds nice.” His eyes slid shut. “I probably shouldn’t sleep until I eat and medicate, right?”

“I’m afraid so.”

Lance moaned, which made him cough again. Luckily, it didn’t escalate as badly this time, though the prickling in his chest did amp up a level or two. He emerged to find Keith hovering with a glass of water, Hunk and Pidge in tow.

“Wow, this got a lot worse in half an hour.” Pidge commented, sympathetic and blunt at the same time. “I thought it was just a cold?”

“It’s space flu.” Lance croaked. “I’m on my deathbed. Pay your respects while you still can. And make it quick, I need to make my last confession.”

Thankfully, some of the tension left his friends’ shoulders at that, and Keith rolled his eyes as he handed Shiro the glass of water.

“Hunk, think you can make some sort of spicy soup with what we have left over from the resupply?” Shiro asked, carefully helping Lance swallow what he assumed to be an Altean fever reducer. Lance’s throat seared as the water and pill went down, but he managed not to flinch too badly.

“Oh, yeah!” Hunk immediately brightened, relieved to have something helpful to do. “Gimme, like, half an hour. Actually… Full hour. I still haven’t tested all the herbs yet. There might be something good.”

And he was off to the kitchen, planning aloud about maximizing flavor and nutrient content for the perfect recovery soup. Pidge and Keith, uninstructed, stood awkwardly in the middle of the room.

“We’re gonna have to take shifts until Lance gets through the worst of this.” Shiro informed them. “I’ll look after him for now. I figure Hunk can take over when he comes back with the soup. Any preferences after that?”

“I’ll pop in after Hunk.” Pidge beat Keith to the punch, smirking in response to the red paladin’s glare. “I can always just drag one of my projects in here and try to explain it to Lance. That’ll bore him to sleep.”

“Hey!” Lance protested.

“Am I wrong?” Pidge challenged.

“No, but I still don’t appreciate the insinuation!” Lance grumbled, curling into Shiro’s chest a little more to pout. Also because he was warm. So wonderfully warm…

“Sounds like a plan. Keith, you can relieve Pidge when her shift’s up, then I’ll take over again after that.” Shiro nodded, signifying the matter settled. “In the meantime, could you go get some extra blankets, and a cold compress, Pidge? And Keith, let Allura and Coran know what’s going on. Maybe they’ll have something more that can help.”

Once the others left, Lance snorted. “Shifts. Heh. You make it sound like a chore. Watching over me is a privilege. I’m a joy to be around.”

“Of course you are.” Shiro assured him. Lance didn’t have the energy to discern whether his tone was more sarcastic, or fondly patronizing, much less call him out on it in either case.

Still, despite how absolutely awful he felt, this space flu did give him the perfect excuse to have a lazy week in bed with his friends popping in at all hours to dote on/tease/hang out with him. And if at the end of it all, he got to see first hand how clingy Keith got when feverish, and that Shiro's sickly sleeptalk ranged from scary to hilarious, and how Hunk sleep-baked when ill, not to mention that Pidge could, in fact, be paler, well... Lance was patient zero, after all. It was only right that he return the favor and look after his friends in their time of need.

And if he got some primo blackmail out of it, well... All the better, right?


End file.
